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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/versesOOcunn 



VERSES 



BY 



MARY MOFFAT CUNNINGHAM 




BONNELL, SILVER & CO. 



NEW YORK 



H06 



v_ 



ttORARY of OONGKRSsl 
two Copias HeceiveO 

MAY 25 1938 

CLASyA aAc. Nj. 

00 HY B. 



TS3JT?r 



COPYRIGHT, 1908 

— BY— 

BONNELL, SILVER & CO. 
New Yoke 



VERSES 



TO MY MOTHER 

If haply vagrant words of mine 
May echo some fine thought of thine 

I shall be glad; 
But if a wayward mood of mine 
Should wound that tender heart of thine 

I must he sad. 
How patient with all faults of mine, 
How loyal is that soid of thine! 

Without a fear 
I offer thee this verse of mine; 
With that sweet mother-smile of thine 

Accept it, dear! 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Venice 11 

Memory 14 

The Water Child 16 

Anticipation 19 

Bereavement 21 

Moods 23 

The Cedar Tree 25 

My Boat 27 

Daniel Boone = 28 

June Gale 31 

The Child-Like Heart 33 

Pussy Willows . 34 

Little Mother 36 

The Flute Player 38 

To Melanie 41 

Home , 43 

Elizabeth's Birthday 44 

Philosophy 45 

The Fairy Ball 46 

A Doggerel 52 

She Hid Her Dreams 55 

Make Believe 56 

Polly 57 

While Sembrich Sings 58 

In Lilac Time 59 

She Dropped the Rose 60 

When Ethel Comes 61 



PAGE 

By Wireless 62 

Now AND Here 64, 

July 66 

My Lady . 67 

The Violinist 70 

yonderland 73 

Uplift Hill 75 

Deathlessness 77 

Opportunity 79 

Arcadia 80 

Joy 81 

FiREWEED 82 

Spring 83 

Winter 84 

Lines Suggested by a Portrait of Miss Sarah Porter. . 85 

TnOiAiAS Bailey Aldrich 86 

^Celia Thaxter 87 

Madison J. Cawein , 88 

Dawn 89 

Noon 90 

Twilight at York Harbor 91 

Starlight 92 

Night 93 

Grief 94 

Trust 95 

^-^ Faith 96 

Hope 97 

Charity 98 

t...^ Freebosi 99 



8 



VERSES 



VENICE 

Across the vale of past delight I gaze 

With eyes that strain to pierce the baffling haze 

That now reveals, then hides thy form from 

me, 
Thou fair enchantress of the eastern sea! 
A myriad of darting, dancing beams 
Converge in one bright spot that glows and 

gleams ; 
San Giorgio at smiset ! Can it be 
The longed for vision is accorded me? 
See where his tall red tower mounts on high! 
Watch the rich colors grow and multiply ! 
Pale rose, deep orange, fervid gold, and 

green — 
Where else are hues so varied ever seen ? 
Frail palaces appear to swim in air, 
And phantom islands shine suspended there. 
Trace in the distance pale Salute's dome 
That rises like a bubble born of foam! 
Around it hover jfitful mists that float, 
And through the light there drifts one drowsy 

boat 



11 



With giant umber sails, like folded wings, 
Aweary with the strife the long day brings. 
A faint salt scent comes from the far lagoon, 
Precursor of the breeze to follow soon. 
A hundred bells speed on departing light! 
A hundred bells peal welcome to the night! 
How quickly then the clang and clamor cease. 
And all is silence, all is rest and peace ! 
The moon behind a veil attempts to hide 
Her loveliness from sight, as some shy bride. 
The blue-black water laps against a pier; 
With careless grace the dextrous boatmen 

steer. 
A soft, delicious languor everywhere, 
A tumult of swift words that cleave the air, 
A happy woman's laughter from afar, 
A lantern flashing like a mimic star. 
Stall! From out the darkness shrill and clear 
Rings forth the warning of a gondolier. 
A tenor voice, a light guitar's sweet strain, 
The echo of that laughter once again! 
A velvet hand by someone caught and kept. 
Fond looks of love no night can intercept; 



12 



The witchery of Spring when one is young, 

The poetry of motion, all unsung. 

Glide on, true lovers ! Quickly youth is spent ! 

Sail on, to gain the haven of content! 

So many souls who fail that port to win! 

Yours be the bliss of those who enter in! 



18 



MEMORY 

It never seems that you are strange to me. 

Where was it that we met before? 
My thoughts, long fettered, struggle to be 
free; 

In vain they beat against the door 
Of memory, like fingers weak and white 
That strive to draw a bolt of might. 

How subtle is this sense of memory, 
And who can understand the power 

Which hides itself deep as conspiracy, 
Or with the perfume of a flower 

Comes flashing for an instant into light. 

Then disappears in blackest night? 

Sometimes a strain of music sweet and wild. 

Which charms me into ecstasy. 
Brings recollections of a little child 

Who in a garden played with me. 
Were you my chosen comrade long ago? 
Were you that child I used to know? 



14 



Sometimes the quiet touch of your dear hand 
Has led me through a gate of dreams 

Into a far, but still remembered land. 
So fair and beautiful, it seems. 

Indeed, to mortal, earth-accustomed eyes. 

The entrance way to Paradise. 

Sometimes I hear a rustle in the trees, 

Where Ariel so sweetly sings; 
Then softly comes a whisper with the breeze. 

Faint as the whir of spirit wings. 
I listen then with rapture and surprise 
Because your voice I recognize. 

Ah, no, you surely are not strange to me. 

Something within me seems to say 
We two have met before, on land or sea, 

Long ages since, or yesterday 
Perchance. What matters date, or name, or 

place? 
Somewhere I met you face to face! 



15 



THE WATER-CHILD 

Aweary of the stifling inland towns, 

I crave more air, more space, more liberty; 

I long to walk the A^dnd-swept, salt-brushed 
downs, 
To gaze with rapture on the boundless sea; 

I yearn to snatch my fill of it. 

To catch the splendid thrill of it. 

To sip the fragrant tang of it, 

To hear the constant clang of it. 

To revel in the health of it. 

The satisfying wealth of it, 

The fierce Titanic might of it. 

The furv and the fight of it! 

Like an imprisoned gull I chafe and sigh, 
And beat against my cage incessantly, 
While like the loosened bird my thoughts still 

fly 

On wings of fancy to the sounding sea ; 
To pulsate with the mood of it. 
To feel the plenitude of it, 
The giant onward sweep of it, 



16 



The stealthy backward creep of it, 
The ghostly, haunting cry of it. 
The everlasting why of it, 
The overwhelming roar of it, 
The whisperings on the shore of it ! 

Of all delights that lavish Nature brings, 
I count the first her ocean symphony; 

Of all the wistful melodies she sings 
None move me like the music of the sea ! 

The rhythmic rise and fall of it. 

The luring siren call of it, 

The deep, heartrending moan of it. 

The penetrating tone of it. 

The tireless, beating surge of it. 

The melancholy dirge of it, 

The swinging, ringing bell of it. 

The sailors' tolling knell of it! 

Deep source from which the painters draw such 
themes 
As mock their skill and ingenuity; 
What artist ever caught the golden gleams 
That dance and sparkle o'er the summer 
sea? 



17 



Not one can find the green of it, 
Or seize the silver sheen of it, 
Or show the sapphire blue of it, 
The rainbow changing hue of it, 
The sudden, startling dash of it, 
The unexpected flash of it, 
The misty, mystic haze of it. 
The countless subtle ways of it! 



18 



ANTICIPATION 

{Irish Coast) 
I 

On the road to meet my lad 

'Tis the voice o' me that's glad, 
And the woman's heart within me laughs and 
sings. 

Sure I need no jaunting car, 

For ten miles is never far 
When sweet love is after lending me his wings ! 



II 



'Twas the carrier brought word, 

And he told me how he heard 
That the ship had just been sighted down the 
bay. 

'Deed I'll see my lover soon, 

With good luck this afternoon. 
Oh my feet they do be dancing all the way! 



19 



Ill 

'Tis to plaze him I am drest 

In my finest Sunday best, 
With a Httle sprig o' shamrock in my hair; 

My white kerchief is brand new, 

And my skirt is clean and blue, 
And my shoes I do be holding them with care. 

IV 

Oh the soul o' me is gay! 

Was there ever such a day? 
Why, the sun can't keep from smiling in his 
sky! 

All the flowers nod to me. 

And the birds chirp cheerily, 
And the madcap brook shouts loud as I pass 
by! 

V 

'Tis myself will reach the pier 

Long before the boat draws near. 
And belike I'll take my Larry by surprise. 

Och, the waving o' his hand 

When he sees me where I'll stand! 
Och, the look that will be flashing from his 



eyes! 



20 



BEREAVEMENT 



What is this ye're telling me? 

That my Larry's drowned at sea, 
That he met a hero's death — a gallant end. 

He was always brave and kind — 

He was not the one to mind 
His own life, if he could onlv save a friend. 

II 

Of what use does glory be? 
'Tis his face I long to see. 
And I want to kiss his lips just once again! 
Sure I need no saint above. 
But my lad alive — to love — 
God forgive me! I am mad with grief and 
pain! 

Ill 

Do ye mind the curlew's cry. 
And the mournful wind's deep sigh. 
And the waves that sob as if their hearts would 
break? 



21 



'Tis because they heard him moan 
When he sank out there alone, 
While the night lit stars as candles for his 
wake. 



IV 



Woe is me that was not there! 

And he thought I did not care — 
I that loved him so and hoped to be his bride! 

Troth I'll never be a wife, 

Yet a widdy all my life. 
For my joy has ebbed this day just like the 
tide! 



V 



A glad heart loves company, 
'Tis alone that I would be. 
And I want to go back home where all is wild. 
To the tears of mist and fog. 
To the breath of friendly bog. 
To the comfort that the hills will give their 
child! 



22 



MOODS 

I 

Sombre grief is as old as the world and the 

woe 
That was felt by poor mortals long eons ago; 

A mere fragment forlorn 

Of a page blurred and torn, 
That was read by another before we were born. 

Like a link in a chain it still binds hard and 

fast 
To the sorrows of those who have lived in the 
past; 
A loose strand strung with tears, 
Baffled hopes, dismal fears. 
But a line that has lengthened and strength- 
ened with years. 

Like some ponderous weight it would drag us 

to earth ; 
'Tis the obdurate foe of all innocent mirth ; 
Pallid sister of dread, 
How it wails for the dead. 
As the night when the light into darkness has 
fled! 



23 



II 

Tender joy has the youth of the faint crescent 

moon ; 
'Tis as sweet and as fresh as the first rose of 
June. 
'Tis a bright flashing ray, 
Like a sunbeam astray 
On its journey through space that has wan- 
dered this way. 

Those who gather Hf e's marma must ever make 

haste. 
If we mean to grasp joy there is no time to 
waste ; 
Yet 'tis harder to seize 
Than the hght through the trees, 
Or a thistle ball blown by the breath of a 
breeze. 

If by chance we obtain it and wish it to stay, 
There is only one plain and infallible way: 

We must scatter it wide. 

It will turn like the tide, 
For to those who give joy, it comes back multi- 
plied ! 

24 



THE CEDAR TREE 

I KNOW a gaunt old cedar tree 
That grows beside the sounding sea, 
Where waves are ever threatening 
The gnarled, grotesque, unsightly thing 
With ill-concealed hostility. 

The querulous, impatient tide 
That fails to reach the steep hillside 

Has some deep grievance of its own, 

And in a sullen monotone 
Rebukes the hapless tree for pride. 

Grim elements of strength conspire 
To mock and jeer with cruel ire — 
The raging storm with fury blind, 
The pelting rain, the wanton wind, 
The rifting frost, the red sun's fire ! 

It seems indeed a cheerless lot 
To fight for life in this grim spot, 
In winter stoned by ice and sleet, 
In summer scorched by cruel heat, 
By foes pursued, by friends forgot! 



25 



In sheltered fields the great elms grow 

Whose grace and beauty all men know : 

The glory of this bleak hill's crest 

Is the stanch tree I love the best, 

The cedar with its head bowed low. 

To bend and sway is not to break! 
Repeated struggles only make 

The soldier stronger to resist. 

Mark the great roots that twine and twist 
Around that rock no force can shake! 

When marching regiments appear, 
The ragged flags are those we cheer ; 

Our eyes look lovingly upon 

The thin and tattered gonfalon, 
Torn in the wars year after year. 

All honor to the cedar tree! 

Distorted, marred, yet brave and free. 
It lifts a battered banner high 
And waves the ensign toward the sky. 

Then shakes with weird, triumphant glee. 



26 



MY BOAT 

Before he sails upon the sea, 

A fisherman of Brittany 
Will kneel to saj^ this simple prayer : 
"Keep me, my God, my boat is small, 

Thy sea is wide. Thou rulest all. 
Oh, keep me ever in thy care!" 

A lonely sail is gliding by, 

One distant shape I just descry, 

A speck of white where cloud meets sea. 
It brings to mind the sailor's prayer, 
A childlike trust, a Father's care. 

And a heart that is blithe and free. 

This human life for you and me 

Is like the wave-tossed, boundless sea. 

The need is great, but weak the call. 
My soul is yonder struggling bark, 
That journeys on through storm and dark. 

"Keep me, my God! My boat is small!" 



27 



DANIEL BOONE 

A BRAVE man wandered in a wilderness, 

Unbroken forest, trackless, dark and wide, 

Where savage beasts, as strong and pitiless 
As hate, lurked in the gloom on either side: 

Alert and keen they stood with bated breath. 
And giant hunger still unsatisfied. 

One careless move was certain to mean death! 

More daring were the fiendish human foes 
Who followed hard upon the white man's 
track. 

And any verdant fern-bank might disclose 
A cruel hand uplifted for attack. 

With ready rifle, and with watchful eyes. 
He hurried on, nor turned to once look back. 

On constant guard against the least surprise. 

He never stooped to drink from limpid lake. 
Or placid pool, without first listening 

To hear a red man crawling through the brake, 
Or furtive footsteps faintly following. 



28 



He looked for arrows glinting in the light, 
For painted warriors, crouched low to 
spring; 
Still on he pressed with neither haste nor 
fright. 



Boone loved a life of action, free and bold; 
Dangers that make the weakling cringe and 
quail 
Give added zest to heroes of his mould. 

Strengthened of God he could not flinch or 
fail; 
He called himself a chosen instrument, 

And where he found no path he blazed a 
trail 
That opened half a mighty continent. 



He knew the plaintive cry of whippoorwill 
Was but a signal in the gathering gloom; 
The turkey's call went through him with a 
thrill— 



29 



An old device to lure him to his doom. 
Sad voices whispered to the sombre trees 

As twilight fell, when listless leaves assume 
Strange shapes, and tremble in the quickened 
breeze. 

At last he reached a fair and fertile land 
Of grass and groves and glades and singing 
streams, 
Where Spring had lately waved a magic wand ; 
And as he gazed he dreamt prophetic dreams 
Of what the future held; — deep mysteries 
Shot through with flitting rays of truth, like 
beams 
Of golden light that dance in darkest trees. 

What were the visions of this pioneer? 

What were his thoughts in those long, lonely 
days ? 
Was his strange prescience strong enough and 
clear 
To see Kentucky rising through the haze, 
A noble Commonwealth, the nation's pride. 
Whose gallant sons and daughters sing her 
praise 
And spread her growing glory far and wide? 

30 



JUNE GALE 

I LISTEN to the sound of hurtling rain 

That beats against the pane; 

And to the wind — almost a hurricane — 

That shrieks in divers keys, 

And imprecates the cowed, defenseless trees. 

Discordant voices strive to pierce the sky ; 

Anon a plaintive cry 

As of an outcast soul that cannot die, 

Condemned through endless years 

To expiate his sin with groans and tears. 

I hear the mocking laughter of the sea, 

Who pounds with cruel glee 

The angry rock, his ancient enemy. 

Primordial hate and strife 

Decreed to last throughout a planet's life! 

The thunder, fiercest demon of the air, 

Has left his hidden lair. 

And lightning issues forth with vivid glare, 

Or fiery, zigzag chain; 

Look yonder where it comes ! See there again ! 



31 



Grim things inanimate are wide awake; 

I feel the cottage shake, 

The casements shiver, and the rafters quake; 

While darkness, like a pall, 

Descends in sullen silence round us all. 

The house-dog whines and crouches at my feet ; 

I hear the maid repeat 

A Pater noster; in the chimney seat 

Two children wail with fright. 

God pity farers on the sea this night! 



32 



THE CHILD-LIKE HEART 

The sweetest sound we hear on earth 

Is the laughter of a child, 
That joyous burst of guileless mirth 

From a source still undefiled. 
Sometimes through vistas grey with years 

We may catch its mellow trace — 
The merriment that reappears 

On a kind old w^oman's face; 
One whose long day is almost spent. 

One who knows life's pain and smart, 
And yet can smile with glad content — 

For she keeps the child-like heart. 



33 



PUSSY-WILLOWS 

The buds can speak! I bend to hear 

Their simple words of kindly cheer. 

They tell of birds and grass and flowers, 

Of running brooks, of vernal flowers. 

What do the pussy-willows say? 

Just this: "Sweet Spring is on her way." 



Each bud enwraps a mystery 

Of life returning, full and free; 

Of fear grown old, of hope born new, 

A dream of love somewhere come true. 

What do the pussy-willows say? 

Just this: "Sweet Spring is on her way.' 



Below the ice the streams still flow, 

Within the earth the daisies groAv; 

Now swallows speed across the sky — 

Look out for thrushes by-and-bye! 

What do the pussy-willows say? 

Just this: "Sweet Spring is on her way." 



34 



To hearts that mourn, alone and sad, 

The joyous buds cry out "Be glad! 

The Spring is not the time to weep; 

What you call death is only sleep!" 

What do the pussy-will oavs say? 

Just this: "Sweet Spring is on her way." 



35 



LITTLE MOTHER 

Little mother, sweet and brave, 
Carrying your baby brother ; 

Gentle sister, pale and grave, 
Always working for another ; 
Mending, scrubbing, 
Washing, rubbing. 

Waking early, toiling late, 
Patient, cheerful, 
Never tearful. 

Uncomplaining of your fate, 
Life's hard burden. 
Without guerdon ; 

Heaven help you, little mother! 



Well you earn a holiday! 

Let me watch the baby brother! 
I should love to see you play. 
Run, dear, just as any other 
Happy child should 
To the wildwood ! 
Spend the rare and sunny hours 



36 



Of your outing, 

Romping, shouting; 
From the grass, and trees, and flowers 

Gather pleasure 

Without measure ! 
Blessings on you, little mother! 



37 



THE FLUTE PLAYER 

Do YOU see the poor man as he stands in the 

rain? 
Do you hear when he plays his old-fashioned 

refrain? 
Do you mark that he frequently pauses to rest, 
That he coughs, that he buttons his coat round 

his chest? 
How the mischievous wind lifts his silvery hair? 
How his thin fingers tremble? Does any one 

care? 

One, two, three and again! 
How it beats in the brain! 

Just one hurrying stranger, who tosses a dime, 
Cries, "I'm sorry, my friend, but I have not 

the time. 
These long strikes are too common. What ! no 

work to do? 

You are sure to be helped if your story is true !" 

And he goes on his way, like the Levite of old. 

How absurd for a man to play out in the cold ! 

One, two, three and again! 

Why, the fellow's insane! 

38 



For, alas! who may know that this man in the 



ram 
Has just left his one child on a sick-bed of 

pain? 
Long the father stood watching her, dry-eyed 

and mute; 
Then he reached for his hat and he picked up 

his flute, 
And he ran in his anguish far down the dark 

street ; 
He plays there for love's sake. Hear the waltz, 

sad and sweet! 

One, two, three and again! 
There are tears in the strain ! 



He has chosen a house that looks cheerful and 

bright ; 
He can see the dim figures that cross in the 

light. 
There are children who dance to the time of the 

air 
Which he thrums with the courage of helpless 

despair. 



39 



There's a form at the window — a trim servant 

maid — 
O, my God ! She is coming to draw down the 
shade. 

One, two, three and again! 
All his labor in vain ! 



40 



TO MELANIE 

Long years ago, two little girls, 

We sat together on one stool; 
You chose me for my dark-brown curls, 

And I chose you one day in school. 

I chose you for your steadfast eyes. 
Which gazed in mine so candidly. 

The childish mind is strangely wise; 
How well I read you, Melanie! 

A friendship founded on the rock 

Of confidence is sure to last. 
We warrant ours to stand the shock 

Of future storms, as in the past. 

What fun we've had, what happy talks! 

What interchange of pleasant thought! 
What rides and drives, and woodland walks! 

What plans discussed, and counsel sought ! 

Your love is like a swallow's nest. 

From which he takes his fearless flight; 

A sheltered spot for peaceful rest. 
Where he returns with keen delight. 



41 



Although I seldom see your face 

(Our roads wind many miles apart), 

Still I am sure you keep my place 
In some warm corner of your heart. 

Propinquity must serve for those 
Who feel affection insecure. 
Absence and time are deadly foes 
Of make-believe. Our bond is sure! 

Fate made us friends for life, vou know. 

There's something in affinity! 
'Twas not by chance long years ago 

That I chose you, and you chose me! 



42 



HOME 

"Where is your home?" a stranger said, 
As he bent low to touch the head 
Of a bewitching child. 
"Poor stupid man, why, don't you see, 
Where Mother is, there's home!" cried she; 
And charmingly she smiled. 



43 



ELIZABETH'S BIRTHDAY 

SiisrcE you are six and I am too, 
I wish to ask something of you : 
How old are both together? 
Ah, how I wonder whether 
You can tell me the answer true, 
Since you are six and I am too ! 



44 



PHILOSOPHY 

My learned friend, Professor Mars, 
Took great delight in watching stars. 
Once when he fell and hurt his head, 
What do you think this old man said ? 

"How fortunate I am!" cried he. 

"What fools call pain is bliss to. me! 
For I still see stars!" 
Quoth the prostrate Mars. 



45 



THE FAIRY BALL 

{For Little People) 

I 

Come, my children, draw chairs near, 

Those of you who wish to hear 

About the famous fairy ball. 

Sit in a ring! Make room for all! 

I was not there, for, don't you see, 

They never thought of asking me. 

Was it last night, or long ago ? 

No questions, please ! I do not know. 

'Twas told me by the Chickadee 

And he abhorred accuracy; 

He said such words as "where" and "when" 

Are only used by stupid men. 

It was a fete the Fairy Queen 

Gave for her daughter, just eighteen. 

"That much," he said, "is strictly true," 

Then raised his wings and off he flew. 

Now, dear children, if you will 

Hear the tale, keep very still ! 



46 



II 

The fire-flies hung their lanterns low; 

Wee gnomes made preparations ; 
They set the toad-stools in a row 

For fays and their relations. 

The bluebells rang at twelve o'clock 
To call the guests together; 

The birds came first — a merry flock — 
The moon arranged the weather. 

The flowers came disguised as elves, 
Alluring, gay, and spritely. 

"I hope you will enjoy yourselves," 
Their hostess said politely. 

A frog appeared, arrayed in green; 

He brought the toad, his cousin ; 
A lizard crawled upon the scene, 

And beetles by the dozen. 

A cock and hens were there, although 
Their presence was surprising; 

They do not care for balls, you know, 
But dote on early rising. 



47 



The poodle-dog made quite a stir, 
Then came two cats with kittens; 

The mothers wore their best brushed fur, 
The kits of course wore mittens. 

Two rabbits and a long-eared hare 
Came bounding to the party ; 

Chipmunks and squirrels too were there. 
With manners free and hearty. 

The fish came last, a wriggling crowd, 

To dance a merry measure, 
But one old flounder, stift* and proud, 

Remarked, with great displeasure : 

"We Flounders draw a strict fish-line. 

I feel my honor slighted ! 
If asked I shall at once decline 

To meet these cats benighted." 

"Now I am very fond of fish," 

Said one Maltese, discreetly; 
"And Flounder is my favorite dish," 

Added her sister, sweetly. 



48 



"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Fairy Queen, 
"My dance must not prove tragic"; 

And so she touched her guests unseen 
With Fairies' Patent Magic. 

Then all were friends or seemed to be 

Until the ball was over. 
Miss Wild Rose danced with Chickadee, 

And Robin with Hop Clover. 

Old Lobster reeled with Mullen-stock, 

A. Beetle with Miss Pansy; 
The Cod Fish chose the Hollyhock, 

The Pike a sprig of Tansy. 

They say the belle was Bouncing Bess, 
Who jigged with young Wood Pecker; 

She danced all night, I must confess, 
And no one there could check her. 

The beau was plainly A. Blue Jay, 

Good dancer, and a dandy; 
He fell in love with Fairy Fay, 

And fed her sugar candy. 



49 



The band was led by Tiny Elf, 

Sand Piper helped him gladly; 
The fiddler Crab outdid himself, 

And Trumpet-flower played madly. 

The Tree-toads sang with all their might, 

And from the bosky thickets 
The wee, weird insects of the night 

Chirped with the crooning Crickets. 

They drank fresh dew in rose-leaf cups, 
Ajid ate bread-crumbs and honey; 

The wise old Owl took dainty sups, 
And he looked very funny. 

It was indeed a brilliant ball. 

And everybody thought so. 
The elfin hosts were kind to all, 

For fairies have been taught so. 

With the first golden streak of dawn 
A watchful gnome, the sentry, 

Gave one expressive, warning yawn; 
Then fairies vanished gently. 



50 



So gently that the morning sun, 
Who rose in all his glory, 

Saw not a trace of any one. 
And never heard my story. 



51 



A DOGGEREL 

(Written to the authoress of ''The Cat") 

It seems to me, dear lady, that 
You somewhat over-rate the cat, 
A playful pet, I must admit. 
But can one love her? Not a bit! 

The very name suggests, you see, 
A being full of perfidy. 
Just call your dearest foe "a cat!" 
And find out what she thinks of that! 

We read sometimes of cataplasms. 
Of cataleptic fits or spasms. 
Of catacombs, dark, creepy places, 
And catamounts who scratch men's faces. 

Who likes to learn the catechism? 
A dreadful flood's a cataclysm. 
When dire disaster threatens, we 
All speak of dread catastrophe. 



52 



These few examples surely teach 
That those who formed the English speech 
Began their meanest words with "cat." 
Profound significance in that ! 

A dog was changed into a star, 
Old Sirius, who shines afar; 
But change a cat and you will see 
A caterpillar — probably. 

Each dog, w^e know, must have his day, 
But in the night the cat holds sway. 
She wails and sings in every key 
And renders life long misery. 

What boots to throw your shoes at her? 
The horrid creature will not stir ! 
She simply glares with scornful eyes 
Whose hateful glitter I despise. 

An egotist, of course! No touch 
Of sentiment for her! No such 
Delightful, subtle flattery 
As any cur gives courteously! 



53 



I love my dog, my dog loves me, 
And that makes reciprocity! 
One good plain dog to me is worth 
Far more than all the cats on earth. 



54 



"SHE HID HER DREAMS" 

She hid her dreams within a shell 

That sailed far out to sea, 
But one glad dream she loved full well 

Returned persistently. 

She gave her dream most tender care 
And wore it next her heart; 

With Cupid's cord she bound it there 
And pinned it with his dart. 

She begged of it awhile to stay 
To share her hopes and fears. 

Alack! One doleful, dismal dav 
The dream dissolved in tears. 

'Twas no more faithful than the rest; 

With them it vanished too. 
And yet — and yet — she loved the best 

This dream that proved untrue. 



bb 



"MAKE-BELIEVE" 

(Rondel) 

I NEVER find, like Peter Pan, 
That sylvan land of make-believe, 

Far from the worries known to man, 

From thorns that prick, from wounds that 
grieve. 

Although I dwell where fairies weave 
Their spells, and beg to join their elan, 
I never find, like Peter Pan, 

That sylvan land of make-believe. 

Alas ! no grown-up person can 

Find out what children all perceive 

Without an effort, scheme, or plan! 
Although I search from dawn till eve, 

I never fuid, like Peter Pan, 

That sylvan land of make-believe! 



56 



TOLLY" 

(Rondel) 

What could I do but fall in love 
With Polly when she passed to-day ? 

Could any man that you know of 
Resist her if she glanced his way ? 

As well resist a bud of May 

That flutters from the branch above! 
What could I do but fall in love 

With Polly when she passed to-day? 

I followed meekly as a dove, 

Resolved to own her sovereign sway, 

And as I bent to kiss her glove 
I vowed to be her knight alway! 

'\'\niat could I do but fall in love 
With Polly when she passed to-day? 



57 



WHILE SEMBRICH SINGS" 

{Rondeau) 

While Sembrich sings how soon we see 
The crowd lean forward eagerly, 
As loth to lose one dazzling note 
That flashes from her wondrous throat- 
A meteor of melody ! 

Sometimes with pathos, oft with glee, 
She acts her part. It seems to be 
All done for love, not plaj^ed by rote. 
While Sembrich sings. 

Mistress of art, we quite agree! 
She sets the jaded fancy free. 
A thousand happy spirits float 
On waves of sound to realms remote. 
And life becomes a tranquil sea 
While Sembrich sings! 



58 



1 1 

] 



•IN LILAC TIME" 

(Rondeau) 

In lilac time I hear the cry 

Of passing vendors, shrill and high, 

And suddenly the city street 

Is filled with fragrance subtly sweet. 

And evanescent as m}^ sigh. 

Would that I might just once defy 
A cruel fate ! I wonder why 
I'm doomed to pine in noise and heat 
In lilac time? 

At least untrammeled thought may fly 
To that old home of years gone by 
Where there was one who used to meet 
Me at the gate, and sometimes greet 
Me with a kiss, when I drew nigh 
In lilac time. 



59 



"SHE DROPPED THE ROSE" 

{Ro7ideau) 

She dropped the rose she wore to-night, 
The pale pink rose, half hid from sight 
Beneath a film of creamy lace, 
That added just a touch of grace 
To her soft gown of purest white. 

She waltzed, of course, with keen delight. 
I do not dance, but felt no spite, 
For, as she swiftly passed my place, 
She dropped the rose. 

She flirted with a score — yes, quite! 
She flitted by me like a sprite. 
Without a tremor, not a trace 
Of recognition in her face; 
Yet I can swear I saw aright, 
She dropped the rose! 



60 



"WHEN ETHEL COMES" 

(Rondeau) 

When Ethel comes, the sound her feet 
Make on the stair is soft and sweet ; 
Her brown hair curls distractingly, 
Her lovely face is fair to see, 
Her presence makes my joy complete! 

And yet I'm silent when we meet. 
How strange it is that hearts will beat, 
And men will tremble at the knee, 
When Ethel comes! 

She looks demure and most discreet. 
"Good evening. Pray take a seat." 
Are these few words to frighten me, 
A college athlete, six feet three? 
I will speak now — or else retreat 
When Ethel comes! 



61 



BY WIRELESS 

Grey gulls that can fly, 
Swift clouds in the sky, 

Tireless waves of a midsummer sea; 
Soft breeze from the west, 
Oh, heed my request! 

Will you carry a message from me? 



You fortunate Moon 
To see him so soon 

On his long journey home from Bombay! 
Faint shimmering star, 
You shine from so far, 

Do you think you can show him the way? 



Thoughts travel, they say; 
I send mine to-day, 

For a ship must be easy to find! 
Speed on ! Let him know 
The words sweet and low 

As I scatter them now to the wind ! 



62 



I think of him yet, 
I never forget. 

For my love is as deep as the sea; 
As strong and as sure — 
'Twill ever endure. 

Who will carry the message for me ? 



63 



NOW AND HERE 

{Ballade) 

The grumbler and the pessimist 

Lament an age degenerate: 
The times are evil, they persist 

In telling us, and preach and prate 

Of discontent, and racial hate. 
Alack! Despite their words severe, 

They deem themselves most fortunate 
To live their lives just now and here. 



The gentle poets will insist 

In praising days ^vhen men were great 
As gods, and women — seen through mellow 
mist — 

Were wondrous fair; they celebrate 

Romance and chivalry, relate 
Brave deeds, old ruins thev revere, 

Yet much prefer — I frankly state — 
To live their lives just now and here. 



64 



The critics, with their artful twist 
Of words, attack our faults, await 

The hour to flay — perhaps bridge- whist, 
Or motor-cars precipitate. 
Or modern greed — they deprecate 

All these and more. They too (how queer!) 
Have meekly compromised with fate 

To live their lives just now and here. 



ENVOY 

Queen of my heart, with mien sedate, 
And eyes of blue, so kind, so dear, 

I love but you, nor hesitate 

To live my life just now and here! 



65 



JULY 



A FIELD of golden rye, 
Red poppies growing high. 
Corn-flowers so blue thev vie 
In color with the sky; 
Two jet-black crows that 
Glad reapers passing by, 
A saucy girFs bright eye 
A droning cricket's cry, 
A drowsy zephyr's sigh- 
All these are reasons wh] 
I love thee, fair July ! 



m 



MY LADY 

(Song) 

'Tis bleak December in my heart 

When she is far away, 
But when my lady comes again 

She brings the gladsome May. 
'Tis blackest night within my heart 

When she is far away, 
But when my lady comes again 

How bright and fair the day! 
The dull hours drag through dreary days 

When she is far away, 
But when my lady comes again. 
Swift time will never stay. 
When she is gone 
I am forlorn; 
Birds will not sing, 
Bells do not ring, 
Hushed is my song; 
Life is all wrong 
When she is gone! 



67 



Life's roses wound with unseen thorns 

When she is far from me, 
But when my lady comes again, 

Darts lose their poignancy! 
My bells all jangle out of tune 

When she is far from me. 
But when my lady comes again, 

How sweetly they agree! 
My longing seems an idle dream 

When she is far from me, 
But when my lady comes again, 

Love is reality! 



68 



When she is near. 
Then Spring is here ! 
Then work is play, 
Then hearts are gay, 
Nought can annoy. 
All is pure joy 
When she is near! 



69 



THE VIOLINIST 

He stood a moment watching the vast throng, 
Impatient for the wild uproar to cease, 
The loud applause that always greeted him, 
The idol of the hour, its last caprice; 
And as he gazed he thought, with humor grim : 
"I search for hearts to win them with a song." 

Gently as zephyrs stir a field of wheat 
He moved his listeners, for he was wise; 
He would not startle them; yet as he played 
Their tensioned nerves relaxed, and faded eyes 
Looked young again, and grey heads swayed 
In rhythmic time to measure soft and sweet. 

Now swift notes fall like rain and trickle 

through 
His pliant fingers in delicious showers. 
Bewildering, entrancing, ravishing! 
The spirit of the summer stirs, and flowers 
Exhale their redolence, and wood birds sing; 
The glory of the earth is born anew! 



70 



The melody mounts like a flame ; it seems 
That fire and tone and color interblend, 
Unite to weave a spell; and yet not all 
Perceive the charm, not all can comprehend, 
For each must vibrate to his heart's own call, 
And each must hear the echo of his dreams. 



He plays to one poor lonely country lad, 
Friend-hungry in the city's careless crowd. 
And in his thoughts the youth is home once 

more. 
He sees the old folks standing, pleased and 

proud, 
To welcome him, the neighbors at the door. 
And hears the shouts of children gay and glad. 



A woman hears the sobbing strings, with soul 
Rebellious, restless, eager to be free 
From hated heritage of world-wide woe; 
To her the music is a potent plea 
To rise above despair; the adagio 
Means sacrifice of self. One for the whole. 



71 



Another listens to the waves of sound 

That break on reefs of unrequited toil. 

O splendid chords of triumph! Truth shall 

win! 
Above the conflict and the mad turmoil 
He hears the message of the violin: 
Fight on, nor fear ! A way shall yet be found ! 

How marvelous a great musician's power, 
That lesser men indeed know nothing of! 
The master touches grief — oh, wonderful!— 
And by some subtle alchemy of love 
Transmutes it into joy ineffable. 
He grants men happiness for one brief hour! 

Too soon, alas! the precious time is spent! 

Reluctantly we turn to earth again, 

The violin is mute, we go our way; 

Yet lingering memories shall still remain. 

Recurring cadences that some dull day 

Will flood the room with sunshine and content. 



72 



YONDERLAND 

[Scotch Mother and Child) 

"Shall we ever reach the shore of yonderland? 

Whiles it seems so far away, 
And I catch no ghnuner of the golden strand 

Where the night is changed to day." 

"Child of mine, your soul shall reach the yon- 
derland, 

Though your body turns to dust; 
There are mony things we canna understand; 

We maun hope, dear lad, and trust." 

"Shall I find vou, mither, in the vonderland? 

Shall I see your loving face? 
I'll be searching for you 'mid that angel band; 

I'll be looking through the place." 

"We shall be togither in the yonderland, 

Hae nae fear, my son, nae fear; 
I shall see the bairn I love, and touch his hand, 

Just the same in heaven as here." 



73 



"Are the puir folk welcome to the yonderland, 

Lowly ones, like you and me? 
You hae told me that the House is uncoo 
grand ; 

Who will pay the entrance fee?" 

"There's rejoicing in the happy yonderland 
When one sinner turns toward hame ; 

For the King Himself has given the command, 
All go in who plead His Name." 



74 



UPLIFT HILL 

When the golden sun is sinking in the west, 

Then I love best 
From the occupations of a busy day 

To steal away, 
And to seek a rocky ledge upon the hill. 

Just to be still; 
Just to listen in the silence for God's voice. 

And to rejoice 
In the beauty of the earth and sky and sea 

Surrounding me. 

Well I love my Angelus, brief hour of prayer. 

When free from care 
For a space my soul takes leave of earth-born 
things 

And mounts on wings. 
Indefinable, vague longings stir my breast 

With sweet unrest, 
And the upward path toward heaven shines so 
clear 

While I am here 
That I would, like Peter, build a tent and stay 

Far from the fray. 

75 



On the heights it seems so easy to be good 

And understood, 
But how difficult, alas! to pray and praise 

Through common days ! 
Let me gain an inspiration on the hill 

To do God's will 
On the level plain, amid the stir and strife 

Of human life; 
Let me try with cheerful courage in my heart 

To do my part 
In the lowlands, where the conflict must be 
fought 

In deed and thought. 



76 



DEATHLESSNESS 

OuE discontent with this world's empty show 
Is but the instinct of immortal life. 

We grow so weary here because we know 
A realm of rest beyond the toil and strife. 

Each victory leaves something unattained; 

Defeated in the fight we still aspire ; 
Each problem solved brings thousands unex- 
plained ; 
Through mysteries we learn to climb up 
higher. 

Ofttimes w^e follow messengers of pain, 

Ofttimes the drooping forms of bitter woe, 

As surely as we fall we rise again, 
Forever upward still impelled to go. 

Insatiable hunger gnaws the soul 

In search of food God only can supply. 

We grope like blind men seeking for a goal; 
One happy day we shall find wings and fly. 



7 



^ 



Oh then imprisoned serfs of time and flesh 
Shall breathe a heavenly ether long denied. 

In garments of the King all clothed afresh, 
Alive, awake, alert, and satisfied! 



78 



OPPORTUNITY 

"What chance have I to win renown or place? 

My best endeavors come to naught," he said, 

And wearily he bowed his tired head, 
A beaten runner, distanced in life's race ; 
Nor lifted he his sad, discouraged face 

In time to see the maid who quickly sped 

Across his path with lithe and noiseless tread, 
And beckoned ere she vanished into space. 
Such visions bright are neither strange nor 
rare 

To those who watch and wait expectantly; 
They lurk in dusky woods, they float in air, 

They rise from depths of earth, they swim 
the sea; 
But men must hope, not yield to grim despair, 

If they would capture opportunity. 



79 



ARCADIA 

We wandered forth together once in Spring, 
When earth was young and all her children 

free; 
Before the days of toil for you and me, 
Before the days of priest, or book, or ring. 
We swore no fealty then to any king. 
But worshipped Pan, the god in Arcady, 
Yet craved no boon of him save unity. 
'Twas joy enough to live, to laugh, to sing. 
To watch the flying birds, to pluck bright 
flowers. 
To dance when shepherds piped, from 
sheer delight, 
To follow fast where pleasure led the way 
Through shining labyrinths of golden hours; 
We knew no wisdom fraught with pain or 
fright 
When life was still a lovers' holiday. 



80 



JOY 

To-day I watched a graceful little boy 
Who eagerly pursued a butterfly, 
And stretched forth futile, baby hands to 
try 

To catch this lightest breath of transient joy; 

Yet ere he turned to seek some new employ 
The bright-winged creature swiftly sailed on 

high, 
And he was left to vaguely wonder why 

He could not keep so beautiful a toy. 

O sweet, elusive, fascinating joy! 

How oft I think of that brief, blissful day 

When I had clasped you to my heart — almost. 

Vain was my confidence, my hope, my boast! 
You spread your wings and gaily sped away, 

And left me gazing skyward like the boy ! 



81 



FIREWEED 

Ofttimes a fierce, destructive forest fire 

Will smite the helpless verdure in its track, 
And passing leave a mound all charred and 
black, 

A dreary, barren waste which none desire; 

And then the zealous flowers in bright attire 
Will come with gladness to supply the lack 
Of beauty, and succeed in wooing back 

The bees and birds to comfort this sad pyre. 
So with my heart, when sorrow like a flame 

Attacked it unawares and madlv fouo^ht 
To stifle happiness; for then there came 

Sweet buds of solace and of love, which 
brought 
Me gentle sympathy in God's own name, 

And led back peace, whom I in vain had 
sought. 



82 



SPRING 

When first I felt thy kindly hands touch mine 
My heart beat fast, nor dared I look at thee 
Lest thou shouldst guess, or even chance to 
see, 

The quick blood coursing through my veins 
like wine. 

How shall I sing this ecstasy divine ? 
I felt a captive thing, no longer free. 
And yet I did not long for liberty. 

I listened to my soul that talked with thine. 

Perplexed and angry with myself, I strove 
To read the riddle, vainly questioning, 

"Why do the song-birds call me from above? 
What are the apple-blossoms whispering?" 

Then one pink petal answered, "This is love, 
And love is but a sweeter name for Spring." 



83 



WINTER 

The earth is covered with a snowy shroud. 
For all the Summer flowers are buried deep 
As youth's departed joy, and wild winds 
weep 
For them: the trees and bushes once so proud 
Are humbled now; their heads are meekly 
bowed ; 
The frozen streams are lulled to dreamless 

sleep ; 
Only the stars a dreary vigil keep 
While the cold moon is huddled 'neath a cloud. 

A woman waits and watches hour on hour 
With face pressed close against the win- 
dow-pane ; 
Her grief is dumb; her sad eyes burn and 
smart 
With unshed tears. Poor frost-touched flower ! 
Her Summer-time is gone, nor comes 
again, 
And Winter, cruel Winter, grips her heart. 



84 



LINES SUGGESTED BY A POR- 
TRAIT OF MISS SARAH PORTER 

Beloi^d teacher, good and true and wise ! 
What is the secret of unerring art 
With which you reached and touched each 
pupil's heart ? 
What is the purpose in those earnest eyes ? 
In vain we search and strive to analyze 

Such power. May that calm spirit now im- 
part 
Serenity to us, whose tears must start 
Remembering your joy in sacrifice 
For all your daughters, scattered east and 
west. 
We follow where our recollection leads. 
To walk again your ways of gentleness, 
And think your thoughts of peace. May we 
attest 
The virtue of your touch by noble deeds. 
So shall we prove the friendship we profess ! 



85 



THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 

"Enamored Architect of Airy Rhyme'* 

He laid foundations for a house of dreams 
When but a lad who wandered up and down 
The quiet, shady streets of Portsmouth 
town ; 

The lyric structure grew with years; strong 
beams 

Of pure desire sustained the walls; it seems 
He never thought of glory or renown, 
But toiled for art, and so he won his crown. 

The poet's guerdon, bright with golden gleams. 

His touch was whimsical, and all his own. 
He loved an oriel or turret to enhance 
The building's charm. His work was 
delicate. 
Like that old stairway seen at Blois in 
France, 
A masterpiece that none can imitate — 
It looks like cobweb, yet is firm as stone. 



86 



CELIA THAXTER 



V 



She was indeed a nature-worshiper! 

Think of this woman kneeling on the beach 
Before the dawn, to learn what God would 
teach 
Her spirit in the sunrise ! Think of her 
Beneath the stars, this lonely islander. 

With face aglow, and heart too full for 

speech ! 
Think of her garden by the sea, where each 
Bright bloom was hailed as Heaven's messen- 
ger! 

O winds and waves that grieve at Appledore, 
She needs no dreary dirge or solemn knell! 

Her white-sailed bark has touched a distant 
shore, 
That happy isle where poets love to dwell. 

And she has song and friendship evermore. 
Blow softly, sighing winds, for all is well ! 



87 



MADISON J. CAWEIN 

He has been likened to our hermit-thrush, 
The modest bird of shy, retiring ways 
Who in the lonely wood is wont to raise 

His voice, gently at first, then with a rush 

Of trills and ringing notes, a clear, glad gush 
Of purest ecstasy; hid from man's gaze. 
He calmly chants his vesper hymn of praise 

That ends with darkness in a solemn hush. 

No living poets? Take his book and read, 
And spend an hour of unalloyed delight! 
Illusion, legend, mystery and myth — 
These are the charms this wizard conjures 
with. 
Enchantment lures him like a moon-lit 
night 
To follow where the gods of beauty lead. 



88 



DAWN 

Majestic silence reigns ! No sound shall mar 

The regal entrance of our gracious queen, 

Whose fresh robe glistens with a dazzling 

sheen, 

And scintillates with dew. From near and far 

Her sunbeam courtiers ride in haste. "Unbar 

The gates!" they cry. "Let morning pass 

between!" 
With stately step and calm, untroubled mien 
The fair Aurora mounts her shining car: 
Twelve restive hours await her first command; 
She holds them lightly by an amber chain, 
While with a spendthrift's free, unstinting 
hand 
She flings her sparkling largess o'er the 
plain. 
Rejoice, ye hills and vales, and fruitful land! 
Hyperion's great daughter comes again! 



89 



NOON 

The sun has paused an instant overhead 
To watch with glowing eye the upturned 

face 
Of pensive earth, who lies with careless grace 
Pillowed on azure seas, and garlanded 
With verdure; Languor and Repose have 
spread 
A golden glamour round her resting place; 
There Silence weaves a magic veil of lace. 
And Reverie has scattered buds that shed 

A faint oppressive perfume through the air; 

The skies bend low to kiss her thoughtful brow ; 

Some hidden spell enthralls this child of 

light ; 
Rapt in a vision of the infinite, 
She heeds no past, nor dreads a future care, 
Her life the flawless Noon, the perfect Now. 



90 



TWILIGHT AT YORK HARBOR 

The daylight loiters like a loving friend 
Who lingers at the door to say good-bye; 
The breeze has dwindled to a long-drawn 
sigh; 
The flowers nod with drowsiness and bend 
Their weary heads ; dull insect voices blend 
In slumber songs, and rise and fall and die; 
One bright, audacious star dares climb the 
sky; 
Fantastic coils of silver smoke ascend 
From village roofs; the white, familiar spire 
Points upward like a preacher's warning 
hand; 
The stillness grows intense as throbbing 
pain; 
Too soon the clouds have lost their lambent 
fire; 
Night casts her mystic spell o'er sea and 
land; 
Forget and dream — dream and forget 
again ! 



91 



STARLIGHT 

Who has not watched with wonder and delight 

The coming of the stars, and marked them 
loom 

One after one through gossamers of gloom 
Dropped from the loosened grasp of nodding 

night ? 
A mass of tangled roses, gold and white, 

The garden of the sky glows with their 
bloom ; 

So many and so fair, still God finds room 
For millions more too faint for human sight! 
Yet each one glorifies the rounded whole. 

And all are needed in the perfect plan ! 
What is their destiny? What distant pole 

Attracts this stately, silent caravan 
That moves in solemn grandeur to the goal. 

Hid through the ages from the mind of man? 



92 



NIGHT 

The leaden-weighted hours seem long as years 

When one is watching, waiting for the day! 

What problems vex the brain ! What doubts 

dismay 

The troubled soul! What troops of dismal 

fears 
Assail the courage! Truth itself appears 
Distorted, half a lie! Odd fancies play 
With facts in rings of mist; old sorrows 
stray 
From out the past, their faces drenched with 

tears ; 
Black deeds of violence, and grievous wrong, 
And hateful crimes that dread the morning 
light 
Stalk boldly forth — a loathsome, motley 
throng — 
Filled with insensate rage and cruel spite 
Against the good, who madly rush along 
The thoroughfare that leads to endless night. 



93 



GRIEF 

These wild chimeras of a burdened mind 

Are doomed to vanish with the cock's first 
crow. 

Why should we gaze persistently at woe, 
That well of grief, in whose sad depths we find 
Our own despair? Is this to be resigned 

To sorrow? God has never willed it so! 

He never meant his chosen ones to go 
Through life with heads bowed low, ungrate- 
ful, blind 
To countless blessings, blind to tasks that wait, 
To needy ones that crouch before the gate. 

To those that long for kindness — words of 
cheer 
And comfort — words no man can speak until, 

Softened by suffering, he bends to hear 
A voice that bids him rise and do God's will. 



94 



TRUST 

I JOURNEYED oncc in dreams through bound- 
less space, 
Without a compass, chart, or reckoning; 
Alone, adrift, cut loose from every thing 
That I had known on earth ; in some vast place 
Apart, companionless ; I hid my face 

And drew the darkness closer, murmuring, 
I know not why, a verse we used to sing 
Around our mother's knee. I seemed to trace 
A form, to feel a presence in the night; 

A great, sustaining strength upheld me 
where 
I gazed beyond a moving cloud of fears ; 
And then at last — O miracle of sight ! — 

There rose the star of trust, effulgent, fair, 
And beautiful as love that smiles through 
tears. 



95 



FAITH 

The calm of nature tortures my sad heart; 
The sweet serenity of cloudless skies 
Mocks at my grief; the fierce sun terrifies; 

The stars are powerless to heal the smart; 

The caroling of birds hurts like a dart ; 
The scarred and furrowed fields epitomize 
The universal pain ; with tear-dimmed eyes 

I seem to view myself, their counterpart. 

Then Faith revives, and whispers in my ear, 

And lo! I feel ashamed of unbelief — 

The soul asserts itself; the heavens above 

Are luminous with God; my way shines clear. 

And I can trust again, and wear my grief 

With courage, proudly, as a badge of love. 



96 



HOPE 

Benignant friend of all the human race. 
We bless thee for thy constant help and 

cheer ! 
God gave thee power to cast out baneful 
fear, 
To ease our loads, to flood the darkest place 
With mellow sunlight. Men will bravely face 
The rudest shocks of life when thou art near ; 
The shadowed road to death becomes less 
drear 

Since thou wilt travel with us into space. 

■» 

While cowards shrink back trembling and 
afraid 
To step across the threshold, thou dost begin 
The journey eagerly, one undismayed 

By doubt, or dread of unforgiven sin; 
With confidence that Christ has fully paid 
The price, and hope, glad hope, may enter 
in! 



97 



CHARITY 

I SEE thee in a vision — tall and straight 
And shapely as a lily ; round thy head 
The sacred nimbus glows and gleams, in- 
stead 

Of jeweled diadem of earthly state. 

Thy soul, unsullied, pure, immaculate, 

Shines as the stars. Supernal light is shed 
Upon thy way. Thy sapphire cloak out- 
spread. 

Protects a host too great to estimate. 

Whose sins are hid by gentle charity. 

Thou dost implant within the human breast 

Affection strong, and true and heavenly. 
Of all sweet tasks this is the loveliest! 

Most tender sister of the wondrous three, 
Thy very name means love made manifest! 



98 



FREEDOM ^ 

Sing me a song of gladness and content — 
Life freed from fears that manacle with 

chains ; 
Freed from distrust, from hatred and the 
pains 
Of envy, freed from wailings and lament. 
From galling memories of hours misspent. 
Freed from the earthy taint of sordid 

gains — 
Yea, sing a sin-freed life that still retains 
The fragrance of a garden innocent. 

Sing me a song of freedom, clear and sweet, 
The great enfranchisement, assured, complete. 
When the exultant spirit leaves the shoal 
Of doubt, and mounts from height to glitter- 
ing height 
On wings of aspiration flecked with light. 
Yea, sing the manumission of a soul! 



99 



MAY 25 19UB 



J 



